


Home Is In The Hands Of A Lover

by Silver_over_bone



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Falcon And The Winter Soldier (Marvel)
Genre: Chaotic Good, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 20:23:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_over_bone/pseuds/Silver_over_bone
Summary: Bucky Barnes knows exactly where he belongs.Or,Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes enjoy their morning routine.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	Home Is In The Hands Of A Lover

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me vomiting my feelings into fanficion. I'm very excited about TFATWS series and I hope we don' suffer because of it.  
I've also never posted on here before so I hope this goes ok, a couple parts of the writing feel a little clunky to me.

Bucky exhaled slowly, the breath turning into a warm sigh, as he woke up. He gave himself a moment, letting himself feel and hear before he subjected his eyes to the day. The silk sheets were smooth against his lower back, where they slid during the night, leaving his upper back to prickle with the cold air. He didn’t mind too much, far more focused on the warm hand spread over his shoulder. The wind rustled the leaves on tree outside the window, and the birds that nested on the window box started to chirp as they woke up as well. The heartbeat that pounded steady in the chest his head was rested on overpowered everything else.

He opened his eyes, blinking lazily at the wall in front of him. The white paint was glowing orange from the sunrise Bucky knew would be pouring in from the window on the parallel wall. He tilted his chin up slowly, his cheek sliding against smooth skin, trying not to shift the hand in hair. The digital clock that sat under the lamp on the bedside table read ‘6:12 AM’ in big red letters. He sighed, then carefully slid his hand out from under the set of ribs it was trapped under to press the button that would stop the alarm due to blare in 3 minutes.

Bucky tucked his arm against the bed and used his forearm as leverage. It could’ve been easier to balance, but his left arm was sat on its mount by the dresser across the room. He didn’t sleep with it on. The hand that was rested against the back of his neck slipped down to fall against the bed. The purpose of propping himself up was the stare down at the man sleeping underneath him. Dark skin illuminated by the rising sun made him look like he was dusted in gold. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of the other man’s lips. When he didn’t stir, Bucky pressed a couple of kisses along his cheek before burying his face in the man's throat, breathing in the familiar smell.

“Sam.” He murmured; his lips pressed into a pulse point.

The response he earned was a muffled and unintelligible grunt.

“Time to get up.”

“Five more minutes.” Sam’s voice was raspy and held the tone that of a grumpy old man.

Bucky smiled, recalling the exact same argument from the previous morning. Five minutes had transformed into two hours.

“You said that yesterday and look how that worked out.”

“Shut up.”

Bucky mouthed a half-kiss to the skin pressed against his lips, then started pushing himself up. Once he got to his knees, Sam had opened his eyes and was making a grab at pulling him back down.

“Come back.” He huffed, hands sliding around Bucky’s waist to try and convince him back into the sheets. “It’s cold.”

He didn’t bother fighting it, dropping onto his right side. It was cold, and if he didn't like their routine so much, Bucky would've been happy to let them stay in the warm sheets for a few more hours. They curled into each other, legs interlocking and arms embracing. Their noses bumped together, and their foreheads pressed into each other's.

“Good morning.” Bucky breathed, accepting a soft peck against his lips.

“Good morning.” Sam echoed, his eyes sliding shut against. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, soaking in each other’s presence.

“Alright. Let’s get up.” Sam finally grumbled.

“What if I don’t want to now?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

The shuffling of limbs and bodies and sheets ensued.

Sam escaped the confines of the bed first, despite his original hesitation to wake up in the first place, and stumbled his way over to the dresser. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor as he watched him. He caught a pair of jogging pants that Sam tossed over his shoulder at him. He hauled himself to his feet, leaning his weight to the left to keep his balance. He stepped awkwardly into the pants, pulling them up to sit on his hips.

Sam was busy fighting his way into a pair of basketball shorts, while Bucky quietly stepped up to the prosthetic propped on the wall like a trophy. He shifted his shoulder to line it up with the arm. He popped open the panelling on his shoulder, and let the arm do the rest. Shuri, god bless her, had made he process of taking the arm on and off painless, simple and fast. The wires got close enough and they simply linked up, and the plates fell together like magnet. He sighed as the familiar weight registered in his shoulder again, and he wiggled his fingers just to check it was attached properly before lifting it off the mount. Every time he put the arm on, it never felt quite as heavy as it did the last time. He didn't hate it anymore.

Sam brushed past him, yawning loudly. He started pulling a tank top from their closet, and Bucky snatched it out of his hands. He received an extremely dirty look for his efforts. 

"You complained about this one rubbing too much last week." 

"Thanks, mom." Sam teased, but smiled nonetheless and went for a t-shirt instead. 

Bucky reached past him to pull a long-sleeve from a hanger, pressing briefly against Sam's back. He took it as a cue to turn around and tuck against his chest, arm slinking around his waist. Bucky snorted softly but fell into the hug anyways. Nowadays, touch was easy for him; he almost couldn't remember how he used to be just a few months back.

Something Bucky hadn't realized, was that he was touch-starved. He hadn’t even heard of such a condition until he heard the radio start chattering about how ‘today’s youth are touch-starved and miserable because of it’. All that he had known was that Sam patted him on the shoulder and it felt so good that he felt nauseous with it, or he would watch strangers hold hands on the street and he would choke on the way his chest got tight. The first time Sam had kissed him, his hands had trembled so badly for the next half-hour that he sat on them so that the other man wouldn't notice. It was good he was finally able to enjoy it without having to worry about how long he would have to wait for another hug.

“I actually came over here for a shirt, Sammy.”

“What I’m hearing is that you don’t love me.”

“You should get your hearing checked then.”

Sam laughed, his breath hot against Bucky’s throat. He pressed a kiss against his jaw and pulled away.

“I’m gonna go start coffee.”

The shirt Bucky pulled out wasn’t his and by the time he found one that was, and made his way out into the kitchen, Sam was pulling the creamer out of the fridge. Bucky wandered up behind him, caging him in by placing both of his hands on the counter either side of Sam’s hips, and pressing his body up against the man’s back. His hips gave a little jerk against the man in front of him, even though his dick wasn’t actually paying any attention. 

“Honestly, Buck, if you don’t watch it, we’re gonna end up back in that bed before the toast pops.” Sam warned, stirring the coffees like Bucky wasn’t half-heartedly dry humping him from behind. 

“Well we wouldn’t want that.” Bucky hummed, pressing his luck and risking digging his teeth into the muscle on top of Sam’s shoulder. The stirring paused for a second, and then Sam was huffing, pressing back against Bucky to make him step away.

“Butter the toast and calm down, you heathen.” Sam grumbled, sitting down on a stool at the island, his mug held in one hand.

Bucky grinned, turning around to wait for the bread to jump out of the toaster. Once it did, he dressed the slices with what he viewed as too much butter. It was an old habit from the war, trying to use as little as possible to save rations. He couldn’t help it, and Sam teased him about it incessantly. He did like toast with too much butter, even if the idea of the cost made him cringe.

“Through the park today?” Bucky asked, setting the plates down on the island and taking a seat next to Sam.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They never took long to eat, and their routine was regular enough that tossing their plates into the dishwasher and heading for the front door didn’t need to be discussed. Bucky paused in the hall to scoop some kibble into the cermaic bowl on the floor that had sharpie scribbled on the side in the shape of the word ‘Alpine’. The cat hadn’t made an appearance yet that morning, but Bucky knew well enough that he’d be demanding to be paid attention to by the time they got back.

There was some awkward shuffling and bumping of bodies together as sneakers were pulled on and tied up. Sam was out the door first, stretching on the front step while Bucky twisted the bump on the doorknob and pulled the door shut behind them.

“You locked that right?” Sam asked, eyeing the doorknob suspiciously.

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well now I feel like I didn’t.”

“Check.”

There was a soft metallic clatter and Bucky tried the door.

“… No, I locked it. I told you!”

“Hey! Just making sure.”

“Get to movin’, Wilson.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

They jogged side by side down the city block to the park, footfalls nearly silent on the cement sidewalk. They found their way to the park, the ducks complaining loudly at them when they had to waddle off the path so as not be tread on. The air was damp, and cool and the wind brushing across his face made any heat Bucky was building up disappear pleasantly. He took note of the way a few of the trees were going gold and red around the edges.

He glimpsed at Sam out of the corner of his eye. He looked unbothered, staring straight ahead at their path. He must've caught onto the sneaky glances being shot at him though, because when he turned his head, the wide, bright grin he wore was nearly blinding. All Bucky could think was how perfect that morning was.

He was exactly where he belonged.


End file.
